


One, Two, Three

by Kauri



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Loss of Virginity, Multi, Oral Sex, Threesome - F/F/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 09:25:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8138971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kauri/pseuds/Kauri
Summary: He watches them disappear, into the tent that first night, all smiles and graceful touches, hands locked together. He can hear Leliana’s laughter, high and bright, and then the soft sounds from within, are laughs no longer.It isn’t surprise he feels.It’s desire.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sparkleymask](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparkleymask/gifts).



She was brave. It was the first thing Alistair noticed about Elissa.

Well… possibly not _the absolute_ first.

The absolute first thing he noticed was the swing of her hips as she wended her way through the Grey Warden camp. She was equal parts slink and sway, and he wondered if she was doing it deliberately, as she made her way closer.

Closer to him, it had turned out.

She already knew his name, had been sent by Duncan to join the Wardens, and he was having an embarrassingly hard time keeping his eyes off her lower half.

 _Elissa._ She smiled, wide and bright, mouth wrinkling into a small dimple on one side. The smile didn’t quite reach her eyes -- there were hidden shadows there -- but it was genuine. _She_ was genuine.

And she _was_ brave.

She was brave throughout her joining. Brave when the darkspawn attacked, and decimated the order they had given their lives to. Brave when he fell apart on the road, grieving a man who had been like a father to him, and a brother who’d been a stranger.

He hadn’t noticed anything for a while after that.

But he followed her.

He followed for a long time, until the sharpest edges of his grief were dulled. And when he began noticing things again, he noticed that one swaying pair of hips, had become two.

He wondered if it was just the way rogues moved -- like water, shimmery, and smooth, and effortless.

Elissa always struck first. Sliding in and out of the shadows. One, two, strikes of her daggers, with Leliana’s arrow following so closely behind, it always felt like the third strike. One, two, three. They moved together, so easily and with such precision, that it always seemed as though they _belonged._  One, two, three. A shadow, and the light that cast it.

Not merely light. Leliana was the _sun._ Warm. Sustaining. Desperately beautiful. But liable to blind you if you looked at her the wrong way. Sometimes the sound of her laughter hurt his heart. He’d thought her very much like him, when they first met. Chantry-touched. Innocent. Lost. And she was, but that was only skin deep. She was silverite at her core. And the more dangerous of the pair. One, two, and the killing blow.

They never balked from the fight. They were alike in that. Elissa moved like oil on water, weaving through the battlefield as though nothing would touch her. More often than naught he found himself at Leliana’s side, taking blows meant for her, as she stood, always a target, firing arrow, after arrow, after arrow. Fearless. The same trait as Elissa’s bravely, expressed so differently.

They were always in each other's company. Heads bowed together as they whispered, or worried. Fingers finding each other after a fight, linking together like the words of a sentence. One, two, three.

It hadn’t really surprised him when he saw Elissa go into Leliana’s tent that first night. The pair had flirted openly in camp. But then, Elissa flirted with _everyone._

Even him.

He’d even thought for a time that she might… that _they_ might…

So it isn’t surprise that fills him, as he watches them disappear, into that tent, all smiles and graceful touches, hands locked together. He can hear Leliana’s laughter, high and bright, and then the soft sounds from within, are laughs no longer.

It isn’t surprise he feels.

It’s _desire._

A bolt of it that runs straight through him, settling around his balls like a vice. A _want_ so strong he’s a little alarmed by his own response. He can feel the heat of it creep up his belly, feel the flush of it along his neck. He finds his own tent as quickly as he can that night, trying to be inconspicuous, but even so Zevran tosses him a knowing look and an offer to _lend a hand._ He goes absolutely scarlet. Stammers excuses. Trips over his own damn feet.

He tears off his breeches the moment he’s in his tent. Pops off three buttons in the effort. His cock springs out, so hard he _hisses_ when he wraps his fingers around himself, and squeezes gently.

He tries to steer his thoughts to general fantasies as he touches himself. Bare limbs. Wet frocks. Heaving breasts. But in his mind he keeps seeing the freckles along the tops of Leliana’s shoulders. He imagines Elissa running her tongue along those freckles. The sharp, white teeth closing over a sensitive spot on the archers neck. He imagines the noise Leliana would make -- _women make noises when they’re being pleasured, don’t they?_ \-- little gasps and moans, interspaced with the lightness of her laugh. Elissa’s would be different. Deep, and rare. Like something precious pulled from the earth.

He feels the head of his cock slicken with precome. Keeps tugging. The fingers of his free hand stroke gently along his lower belly, where all the hot swirl of sensation is pooling. His back arches, hips lifting into his own hand.

He’s never been a master of self-pleasure. It always seemed awkward, and indulgent, and he rarely had a space of his own for the task. Now though, thinking of the pair of them -- Leliana, bright as fire, Elissa, smoky as a coal -- has his hand moving up and down with a vigor that nearly makes his arm cramp.

He doesn’t last long. When he imagines Leliana’s hair spilling across Elissa’s spread thighs, his whole body goes taunt with a startled grunt, and he comes. He lies in the dark listens to rasp of his own heavy breathing, feeling his seed cooling on his belly, and wonders what it would be like if _he_ were in the tent with them.

Touching them. Tasting them.

He can’t even look at them the next morning. They leave the tent, hand in hand, disheveled, and radiating happiness. Content in a way he’s not sure he’s ever been. Elissa sets Leliana down near the fire, gently combing her quick, and clever fingers through the bard’s tangled hair. And Leliana bends her head back, eyes closing under the attention. Though in full view of the camp, he can’t shake the feeling that these tender, innocent touches aren’t _his._ Aren’t for his eyes. And he finds he wants this too. Desperately.

Leliana giggles, a sound that runs straight through his heart, and raises her hand, covertly cupping the underside of Elissa’s breast, before dropping away.

_Maker._

All the blood in his body stampedes towards his dick, and it’s all he can do not to stalk immediately back to his tent, and take himself in hand.

It goes on like this, for _weeks._

Hiding erections become the norm. Aching balls, become the norm. He spends more time polishing his -- well, he polishes his armor too - if only to keep his hands off himself. He even talks to _Morrigan._ _Willingly._ But even _she_ does little to abate his arousal.

The nights away from camp are always harder. They each have their own tent, but there’s not enough space to get away. And the thought of the pair of them -- they share a tent now, quite openly -- doing the things they do at night, only an arms length away, and separated by a few flimsy layers of canvas, is enough to send him stumbling out of his tent, bright red, with a poorly concealed erection.

He tucks himself behind a small outcropping of rock, a little ways away from camp, working frantically at the laces of his breeches. His cock is so hard it slaps up against his belly, once freed. Even so it takes him a while to find a pace that suits him. He _is_ getting better at masturbating, but when he’s this turned on, he keeps getting lost in the sensations of his body, and forgetting to stroke. He shifts against the rock, eyes closed, tugging in a slow, but stilted rhythm. He thinks of them as he touches himself. He can't help it, doesn't even try to fight it anymore. He thinks of Leliana dragging her open mouth across the points of Elissa's breasts. She'd worn an ill-fitting tunic in camp this morning, it had slipped down one of her shoulders, the upper curve of her breast visible for a moment. And,  _oh, Maker..._  
  
His grip tightens, pleasure lifting, riding up the back of his knees, and --

A snap of a twig, behind him.

_Shit._

Inanely, his hands leave his cock, jerk instinctively to his sword -- or where he _usually_ carries a sword. Only, it isn’t darkspawn. Or bandits. Or rabid wolves. Just definite proof that the Maker has a terrible, horrible, _vengeful_ sense of humor.

_Oh, shit, shit, shit, shit --_

For a moment, he’s not sure which of the three of them looks more surprised. Leliana’s eyes go wide and round. While Elissa’s are calmer, more speculative, her brows furrow gently. Their hair is slightly damp, he notices absurdly. As though they were just returning from a bath.

His cock, still hard, and exposed, gives a horrific, involuntary twitch.

Their gazes snap down to his crotch.

_Shit._

Elissa’s gaze smooths out, a little. “Alastair.” She says, softly.

His mouth drops open, but he can't seem to manage to speak. The moment drags, and he's just frozen. Face red, cock out, and still absurdly hard.

"Alistair." She says again, gently. “You needn’t... do that alone. I could … _we_ could...”

All the air gusts out of his lungs with a terribly embarrassing, needy whine.

He hadn’t realized she’d been moving closer to him. Not until she reaches over, and takes his cock in her hand. And -- oh sweet Maker -- he _moans_ as her fingers tighten, squeeaing gently. No one else has ever touched him there before.

Her hands are smaller than his own, her touch more tender. She drags her hand, slowly up, and down the full length of him. Tentative. His hips flex on the upstroke, and a bead of precome forms on his tip. He feels a second pair of hands, warm on his thigh. One, two. They move in harmony in this as well. Dropping to their knees before him.

He hasn’t the thought to wonder what they’re doing before Elissa leans forward and seals her lips around the tip of his cock. One hand flies up to catch his startled cry, the other tangles itself her hair, cups around the crown of her head. She rolls him in her mouth, experimentally.

A single word slips free in his mind.

_More._

He wants more.

He trembles, thighs shivering as Leliana leans down, nuzzling against the tender, wrinkled sac between his legs. She presses a wet, sucking kiss there, and he gasps. Hips thrusting involuntarily.

Elissa gags a little, and pulls back.

“He is bigger than you thought, no?” Leliana smirks.

“I suppose I’m out of practice.”

He adds to the conversation with a thrust of his hips, and a needy whine.

“Ssssh.” Leliana croons to him. “Hush.” And takes her turn on his cock.

Leliana bobs swiftly on his tip, while Elissa licks the base of him. Their hands move in tandem, cupping, stroking, scratching down the inside of his thighs. They take turns, run their lips along the sides of his shaft. His hardness caught between their kiss.

His vocabulary increases. _Yes,_ and _Please_ spill from his lips, wedged between moans, gasps, and grunts of pleasure. He tries to keep his eyes open, tries to _watch._ But it’s overwhelming.

He’s not sure how long it goes on. He feels desperately like coming, but is even more desperate not to come. To not have it end. It isn’t just the sensations they drag from him. The restless heat of their mouths. It’s _them._

Beautiful. Gentle. Dangerous. He tries to tell them. How his heart leaps when he sees them. But he’s so lost, he’s nearly gibbering. Presses down on the backs of their heads. Prays. Swears.

One. Two.

Two mouths, against him. Two tongues.

“I need two cocks.” He says, raggedly.

Leliana snorts on a laugh, kisses her way up his belly, pausing to delve her tongue into the small depression of his navel. “No,” She whispers, and their eyes meet. "You are already perfect."

That is all it takes.

He jerks, tries to issue a warning, but all that comes out is a strangled noise, as he climaxes, hips bobbing erratically. Elissa makes a pleased sound as he comes in her mouth. He thinks he feels her swallow.

Leliana carries him through the last of his orgasm. Kisses his mouth to catch the desperate sounds he makes. And when he collapses back against the outcropping of rock, spent and shivery, he watches Elissa cup the side of Leliana’s face, tenderly. A question in her eyes. Leliana mummers something he doesn’t quite catch. And Elissa threads her fingers through his, and leads him back to camp. He’s bandy-legged, stumbles a bit when he tries to walk. Drunk on sensation, and the pleasure of their touch.

It’s _their_ tent they take him to. Set him down, pull of his boots and his tunic. They disrobe themselves as well. Leather armor stacked in little, ramshackle piles. He sees a flash of bare breasts, pale and slightly freckled, as Leliana pulls off her undertunic, and slips into a longer gown meant for sleep.

They push him towards the middle of the puddle of blankets, and tuck themselves around him. It’s all knees and elbows and, husky mummers, and he finds himself curled around Leliana’s back, Elissa pressed up tight against his arse. He shifts his legs back a little, thinking -- not for the first time that night -- that he needs arms enough to hold them both. Still they get themselves comfortably intertwined, and Leliana heaves a heavy, contented sigh.

_Love. Acceptance. Peace._

He feels it bleed from one woman, to the next. And him, caught in the middle, if only for this one night.

Maker, _thank you,_ for giving him this one night.

Exhaustion pulls at him, plucking at his eyelids. But, tired as he is, there’s a giddiness that runs through him. A _joy_ in holding them, in being held. It’s so _warm_ between them. And soft. And they smell wonderful, and --

He shifts, infinitesimally, and feels his cock start to harden. He grits his teeth, wishing he could pull away -- he’s wedged right up against the fullness of Leliana’s arse, after all -- but Elissa is right behind him, and at this rate --

 _“Oh.”_  Leliana says, softly, and wriggles up against him. “Already?”

“Maker, I-I’m sorry.” He stammers, glad she can’t, that neither of them, can see his expression. “I…”

“No.” She chuckles. “I’m flattered.”

He’s vaguely aware of a subtle shifting inside the tent, some current that runs between them, alive and electrifying.

“Alistair,” He can feel Elissa’s breasts squash against his back as she leans closer, and whispers in his ear. “I want you to fuck Leliana.”

“You… I…”

“Please.” Leliana asks. She shifts, against him, wriggling her tunic up over her hips, and _Maker_ , she isn’t wearing any smalls, and --

He can feel Elissa’s hands move, fit themselves around the laces of his breeches, and tug at the knots there. He tries desperately to think of something to say, but when he opens his mouth the only sound that comes out is a needy moan. And then his cock is in her hand, hot and hard, and unthinking. His hips tilt forward, and the tip of him slides between Leliana’s buttocks. He can feel the press of her arse around the head of his cock, warm and welcoming.

“Oh.” He says, breathlessly. _“Oh.”_

Leliana giggles. Not _exactly_ the sounds of female passion he’d imagined, but perhaps she is ticklish there. Elissa makes a soothing sound, gets her hand around the base of his cock again, and guides him. Angling up, as Leliana presses down, and he suddenly sides _in._

A soft, achey gasp.

 _“That’s_ better.” Elissa mummers.

And it is, it’s -- he’d heard the stories other Templars... other Wardens had told. But they’d somehow fallen short in describing this warm, wet, _wonderful_ heat. He makes a sound like he’s been knifed, and maybe he has been. He has absolutely no attention for anything save the tight -- so, so incredibly tight -- clenching around his cock. Leliana slides down further, and _groans,_ the sound of it deep and throaty.

His hips had been shifting, rocking gently forward, but he freezes at the sound. That’s not a noise he expected either. Is she in pain? They’d both seemed surprised at the size of him...

 _“Wait.”_ He grits out. “That’s enough. I don’t… I don’t want to hurt you.” He buries his face in her shoulder, trying to force his hips to stay still. “I’m too big.” He mumbles.

 _“Maker,_ Alistair.” Leliana moans.

It feels suddenly even more slippery, and he nearly presses in, despite his concern. “Just _don’t --”_

“She can take it.” Elissa mummers between the kisses she presses against the back of his neck. “Just go slowly.”

He tries, truly he does. But his hips lift, greedy for the feel of her, and the little hitching breaths Leliana makes, spur him. He thrusts forward, at the last, hard and eager, until his balls rest against her arse, and he’s fully within her.

“Leliana… Oh, _Maker…”_

He moves, just a little, and pleasure explodes behind his eyeballs, and he has to pause, panting. Mouth open and pleading against her neck. He fucks her in starts and stops, a hitching uncertain rhythm, equal parts frustrating and embarrassing.

But Elissa is there, behind him, whispering words of praise, and encouragement. She kisses the back of his neck, and rocks against him, hips setting a slow and steady pace that he mimics. Her hands drag up his belly, gently burrowing beneath his tunic, until they find his nipples. He follows her lead in this as well, filling his hands with Leliana’s breasts, feeling the points of her nipples harden against his palms.

It is too much.

“I’m going to come. I’m going to come. _I’mgoingtocome.”_ He trips over the words, stumbling towards his end, but Elissa is there again, as he falters. She grips his cock, pressing tight against his base. Squeezing until the overwhelming sensation to orgasm abates enough that his hips can continue their insistent rhythm.

It goes on like this for a while. He climbs the peak of pleasure, and Elissa brings him gently down, until he’s nearly breathless, gasping, growling, and can’t even remember _why_ he shouldn’t come yet. It isn’t until he pinches at Leliana’s nipples, and she makes the sort of sound that he’s always associated with pleasure reaching its natural conclusion, that he remembers. And _heat_ sears him as she writhes against him, undone.

“Please.” He begs. “Please…”

He isn’t sure how to tip the scales, how to coax pleasure from her body. How to return the joy she’s given him. So instead his lips brush against her throat, teeth scraping gently, mummering worshipful bits of praise -- how good she feels, how beautiful… how much he’s wanted… yearned… prayed for her… prayed for them both...

Leliana arches against him tightly, crying out. Her cunt clenches in tight pulses as she comes, and Elissa pulls her touch away from his cock. Unhindered, his own pleasure lifts, and he bucks up against Leliana, desperate. Thrusts suddenly hard, and demanding. And insistent slap of flesh, on flesh. He makes a strangled, stilted sound as he spills into her, calls her name in ragged breaths. And for a moment, his world is a wash of sensation.

Elissa is stroking his hips, gently, mummering tender endearments. Holding him, as his senses slowly return.

He finds the hand she has thrown across his belly. Tangles his fingers with her own. Feeling, suddenly absurdly vulnerable, and a little like he might cry. They shift around him, drawing closer, tucking themselves back against his sides. He turns his head, lips finding Leliana’s. She kisses him until the rough, desperate edges in his touch wear away, until he’s melting. Then she gently turns him towards Elissa. She slants his mouth over his, exploring, savoring. A promise he doesn't understand. Then back again, to Leliana, tasting sweetness anew. Until, with a sigh, he drops abruptly off to sleep.

\--

He has Elissa too, in the deep of the night. She rolls him towards her, and onto his back, stroking him through his breeches. He can’t… not _three_ times. It’s absurd, and indulgent, and --

She chuckles. That low, gravelly sound that he loves so, and climbs atop him. And well… he _is_ possibly capable of three, though he’s _certain_ Rouge stamina outclasses that of a Warrior.

“It does.” Leliana agrees sleepily, somewhere from the region of his elbow. And then there are too many hands upon him to keep track of who said what.

Elissa mounts him, pulls him into the wet heat of her, and asks nothing of him as she rides him. He grips her thighs, marveling at their strength, and watches, wishing their was more light to admire her by. Her hips roll like water over rocks, strong, and effortless, and he feels lost in her current, unable to pull away as she carries him.

“Come for me.” She whispers after a time, voice breathless.

He has never disobeyed an order from her yet.

His back arches, driving up and into her, every nerve ending in his body alight, oversensitive, and overstimulated, and overwrought. He can feel his balls tighten, and he’s not sure he has any seed left to spill, but it’s hers. _He’s_ hers. Theirs. Leliana is there, and he barely has the presence of mind to watch as she reaches, thumb circling insistently between Elissa’s thighs. Finishing her lover with quick, clever fingers.

“My loves.” He thinks he hears Elissa whisper, as he drifts off to sleep for the second time that night.

 _My loves._ He thinks, blearily.

_Mine._

\--

He wakes before dawn. Tired, and a little sore in places, but… grateful. And… _realistic._ He rolls each of them towards him. Kisses them as softly and thoroughly as possible. Then, begins to pull his boots on.

Elissa sits up, eyes creased with sleep. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t want the other’s to talk. To sully this.” He leans over, and kisses her again. Hand stroking the edge of her jaw. “Thank you.” He whispers. “I shall carry this night with me… for the rest of my life.” And he slips back out into the night, towards his own, cold, and lonely tent. Where he belongs.

\--

They don’t speak of their night of passion -- don’t even speak at all. But Alistair thinks about it constantly, memorizing each tiny detail of their encounter. The graceful flicker of Elissa’s fingers as they moved over his cock, the taste of her mouth, salt and sweet with his pleasure. The way his hips had moved with hers, the way he… _they_ had made love to Leliana. The shape and heat of the bard’s body, bucking back against him. The gentle, almost hesitant hitch in her breath. The absolute _gift_ of her pleasure, and of Elissa’s.

The way he prayed for it never, ever to end.

Elissa, of course, seeks him out first. Asks him to accompany her to Orzammar, with Leliana, and Barkspawn. He agrees. He has always followed her lead.

They spend most of the day picking their way through the frostbacks, on paths too narrow for horses. And when they make camp, he’s busy fumbling with the campfire -- _why in the void did she not bring a proper mage_ \-- so at first, he doesn’t notice that they’ve set up only a single tent.

Only one.

Only…

“Maker’s breath.” He whispers.

They are both watching him. Leliana, and Elissa. Usually so different, yet they wear identical expressions of nervousness, mixed with hope.

_One._

Elissa takes a step forward. A smile. on her lips, but a crease on her brows. “Alistair.” She breathes his name. Seems to falter, uncertain.

_Two._

“It doesn’t have to be only one night.” Leliana says. “It can be for as long as you want.” Their holding hands, he can see.

_Three._

He’s not sure when he starts moving towards them, only that when he gets there, he’s so exuberant he ends up tackling them both in the snow. He gets his mouth on one of them -- Leliana, he thinks by the way she smiles beneath him, hiccuping with laughter -- and his arms around the other.

“Can I stay forever?” He asks, breathlessly.

Too many arms, and lips demand his attention. And then he’s fairly certain that they’ll never untangle themselves, and will all perish of frostbite from too much joyful snow-floundering. And Ferelden will fall, and the darkspawn horde will inherit the land, and he can’t find it in him to be even the teensiest bit regretful, because --

_“Yes.”_

One, two, three of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Original Prompt:
> 
> To my mind, the main thing missing from Origins is the option for a Leliana/Warden/Alistair threesome. Their party banter - Alistair's awkward attraction to Leliana and Leliana's teasing amusement in reaction to it - was a delight, and now all I need is the inevitable conclusion: PWP.
> 
> I would enjoy Alistair/Leliana or Alistair/Female Cousland/Leliana equally. I would like the dynamic to be very much Leliana and/or Cousland in control, though, with Alistair either virginal or still inexperienced.


End file.
